


Refuge

by mickeysixx



Series: Undeniable Chemistry [16]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeysixx/pseuds/mickeysixx
Summary: She looked… lost. Dazed, James decided, as he watched her enter the shop. Her eyes were wide but her expression was almost vacant, and the child in her arms didn’t seem to be faring much better; cheeks puffy and mottled red like she had not long finished crying, hiding exhausted in her mother's arms. London was an eclectic mix of people from all walks of life, but Mayfair - and Savile Row in particular - attracted those with good taste and endless wealth, and while James didn’t like to judge people too harshly, he didn’t think she had much of either.





	Refuge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, yes, I'm still here. Have been working on this on and off for a while and finally finished it tonight (yesses).
> 
> For anyone confused, James is the name I've given the gentleman who was behind the desk when Harry takes Eggsy for his fittiing in the first movie.

James had been a Tailor for nearly forty years. As a lad it had been his dream to work at one of the prestigious Tailors on Savile Row - just like his Father - so at fifteen, fresh out of school and with his mind firmly set, he took a job as an Apprentice at Wright Bros Tailors in Wembley. He spent years gaining experience, learning the fine art of the craft from the Senior and Master Tailors there, all with the unwavering intention of following in his Father’s footsteps. 

At twenty three, quite unexpectedly, he received an offer to work for Kingsman as a junior Tailor. It was not long after his Father had passed away; the letter he had received explained that his father had spoken highly of him and that they felt that he would be a perfect fit for their establishment. James hadn’t needed any time to think and respectfully gave notice to his then employer the very next morning. 

He was six months into his new job when he discovered what Kingsman _really_ was, and things started to make much more sense after that. 

Since then he had worked his way up from Junior to Senior, and finally to Master Tailor. Many Agents over the years have asked him why he never became an agent himself, and the truth of it was: he didn't have the stomach for it. He told all that had asked that he'd found his calling as a Tailor and he was happy with that. Most didn’t believe him but it was the truth. He could continue the legacy his father had started by practicing his craft - and besides, there was nowhere else in the world that designed suits quite like Kingsman, and that was more than enough for him. 

It’s not as if being in the shop was any less exciting than being out in, say, Kandahar taking out chemical weapons factories. It was just a different kind of exciting; instead of infiltrating a Diplomats court, he placed orders for seven bolts of the finest blue cashmere, the highest grade ballistics material, and two mini missile launchers. 

Most days were quite normal in comparison, James would readily admit, but every-so-often there came a day that threw everyone for a loop. 

Today was one of those days. 

She looked… lost. Dazed, James decided, as he watched her enter the shop. Her eyes were wide but her expression was almost vacant, and the child in her arms didn’t seem to be faring much better; cheeks puffy and mottled red like she had not long finished crying, hiding exhausted in her mother's arms. London was an eclectic mix of people from all walks of life, but Mayfair - and Savile Row in particular - attracted those with good taste and endless wealth, and while James didn’t like to judge people too harshly, he didn’t think she had much of either. 

“Madam?” He called in his usual manner, masking his confusion with his best smile, “Can I help you?”

Her eyes refocused when he spoke and it was clear that she had only just noticed him. She clutched the little girl tighter as she moved forwards and James’ concern only deepened when he saw how pale she was. 

“I… I don’t know why I’m here,” she said, her voice thick and wavering. She looked around at the pegs, the forms with each bespoke suit, as if she didn’t have a clue where she was. “I should have gone to the police. I don’t know why I’m here.”

Hearing the hysteria edging onto her voice, James set down the fabric swatches slowly and moved out from the desk, “Madam?” He asked again, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

When she turned back to him he could recognise, clear as day, the glassy look of shock in her eyes. “My baby,” she said, “My son. They took my son.”

James caught her before she crumpled to the floor, blessed his quick feet and braced an arm under and around her waist to keep her upright. “Alright, now. You’re in safe hands, just come with me.” He led her over to the green leather couch and set her down gently, keeping a hand on her arm as he called over his shoulder to his young Apprentice, “Jeremy! Alert Management, quickly!”

Without waiting to see if his sharp command had been heeded, James turned his attention back to mother and daughter and crouched down beside them. He kept his demeanour gentle as he spoke to her. “You are quite safe here, and we will do all that we can to help you and your daughter. Will you tell me your name?”

She sniffed, held her wrist to her nose for a second while she pulled herself together. “Michelle,” she said, “Michelle Unwin.”

James’ stomach sank but his expression didn’t waiver. Instead he turned to the little girl fussing in Michelle’s arms, “So you must be Daisy.” He said gently, reading fear and upset across her sweet face. James, who had never been blessed with his own children but had taken care of several younger siblings and countless nieces and nephews over the years, liked to think he knew a thing or two about children in distress. He drew a gentle finger over the sticky, tear-stained cheek, “Eggsy has told me a lot about you.”

“You know Eggsy?” 

“Oh yes, very well,” he answered, “A remarkably intelligent and honorable young man.” 

“He said to come here, but… but I don’t know why,” she looked around again and James could see she was a little more aware now. “It’s just a shop. He-he just works here. I shoulda gone to the police.”

She made to stand up but James pressed a hand to her arm, “Please, Mrs Unwin, Management will be here shortly-” 

“What can they do?” She threw out at him, thankfully no longer insisting on leaving, “My baby’s been kidnapped, some posh bloke in a fancy suit aint gonna help find him.”

James smiled kindly, “You’d be surprised,” he said, and turned as his Apprentice approached. Jeremy was a good lad; a fresh-faced twenty with a lot of potential, but he’d yet to experience all of what Kingsman had to offer, and it showed in the nervousness of his demeanor. 

“Sir, Operations wants a word?” 

He phrased it like a question but James knew it was anything but. He nodded and stood, holding back the wince as his knees protested. “Please prepare some tea for Mrs Unwin - and perhaps some juice for the little one.” James caught the young man’s eyes and made sure he was listening, “And if anyone asks, we are closed for the time being.”

The man nodded and heading towards the back to make the tea.

“I’ll be back in just a moment, Mrs Unwin.”

He returned quickly to the front desk, keeping a close eye on the distressed woman as he picked up the corded handset of the phone under the desk. 

“Sir.”

“James. What’s this about a hysterical woman in the shop?”

James didn't need to see him to tell the man was exhausted; it was clear in his voice, in the slight thickening of his accent. Sympathy panged in his gut - he'd known the man a long time, well before his current position of Operations - but James knew that the news he was about to deliver would make it worse. 

“It’s Michelle Unwin, Sir. She says Eggsy’s been taken.”

There was a pause, some quick tapping of a keyboard flowed by some creative swearing. “Fuck. Harry’s going to go ballistic. Stay with her.”

And with that the line went dead. 

He replaced the handset; that was about as well as he expected that conversation to go, given the situation. It was always a worry when agents got into trouble, and James had been around long enough to know what trouble looked like, but he felt this was rather more than just a missing agent. 

He watched as Jeremy brought a tray through with a pot of tea and a small glass of juice with a straw, saw him carefully set it down on the low mahogany table and kindly serve both woman and child with a calm kindness that sparked pride within James. 

He remembered Eggsy. Not many people could forget him, he thought to himself wryly. He was the polar opposite of the kinds of lads usually put through as Proposals, and in James' opinion, a complete breath of fresh air. He'd genuinely like the boy, and judging by Harry's treatment of him through training and the whole Valentine Affair, he wasn't the only one. 

Almost as if his thoughts had summoned him, Harry Hart appeared, descending the stairs quickly and with the air of someone wading into battle.

Michelle turned at the sound of his Oxfords against the hardwood stair, and if James thought she was pale before, she was all but bone white now. Whatever colour remained in her face leached straight out on sight of Harry Hart striding towards her with his dignified face set in stone. James moved quickly to join them, anticipating this encounter to be turbulent at best. 

“You.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “How…”

“What happened?” The question was sharp enough to have James flinching but Michelle didn’t seem to notice. She had already stood from the couch, staring dumbfounded at the man as he approached. 

“I-I-I don’t understand. How can you… what is goin’ on?” She looked between James and Harry, as if imploring them to help her, “How are you-”

He cut her off by grabbing both arms roughly and shaking once, hard; something that was so uncharacteristic for Harry Hart that James blurted out a shocked “Sir!” in response and made to step forward. His outburst, however, was ignored entirely while he kept his focus purely on the woman. “Michelle, this is important! I need you to tell me what happened and I need you to tell me _now_.”

She took a moment, the sheen of fear and shock still glazing her eyes, but she seemed to understand that his question was important and that answering it was the right decision. She gave a shake nod. “Yeah.. alright.” Her voice was thin but strong enough to carry as she continued. “We were at the park. Eggsy wanted to spend some time with us, said he felt like he hadn’t lately and wouldn't listen when I told him he was being silly. Anyway, he was pushin’ Daisy on the swings and I was talkin’ to Cherise on the phone about her mum - she’s in hospital for a bunion but you’d think she was having a heart transplant by the way she carries on - and then this big bloke tries to drag me off the bench. And when I wouldn’t go, he pulled out a.. a gun.” She stopped and swallowed, “And then I see this other guy with Eggsy and Daisy and there’s more guns and they threatened to shoot us if we went to the police.”

Hysteria was setting in again, her breathing fast and panicky, and in stark contrast Harry was statue still and barely breathing at all. “What did they look like? Sound like?”

“What’s that matter? How’s it gonna get-”

“Michelle!”

“Big, ok!” She struggled under Harry’s hands and he seemed to acknowledge his hold on her because he let go immediately and stepped back, “Big guys. Heavy. One of ‘em had a posh voice, like you.” She spat it at him and backed away, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked for Daisy then, relaxed minutely when she saw she was safe on the couch with Jeremy keeping her attention. “Eggsy told them to let us go or he wouldn’t go with ‘em. They didn’t want to, I could tell, but they let him give Daisy back to me. That’s when he gave me the signal.” She looked at Harry again, “He told me once that if anything ever happened, anything bad like, he’d say the word ‘tailor’ and that meant I should come here.” She sniffed, “I said _babe, what’s your work gonna do about anything?_ and he just made me promise to come here if anything went wrong. So he gave her over, called her Taylor instead of Daisy and I knew he was tryin’ to tell me something.”

“What then?”

“Then they took him. Left me there in the park. I think they took him to a car or something, because when I followed, I saw it speeding off down the road.”

“Colour? Make? Model?”

“I don’t know, I ain’t a car girl!” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, “I didn’t see much of it. Black, windows were dark. Um. Could've been a BMW?”

Harry reached up and touched his glasses, turning away from her and towards the back stairs, “Did you get that? Pull up all the CCTV in the area and keep me informed.”

“Will you bring him back?”

Harry paused just before the stairs. The question carried over the shop and was filled with so much emotion that it made James’ heart seize. She looked lost and scared but determined too, and James saw a flash of something that reminded him strongly of Eggsy.

"I don’t know what’s goin’ on here," she said into the sudden hush, "Or what Eggsy’s got to do with it. But the last time I saw you, you told me that my husband had died and I need-" her voice broke, hand shaking as she pressed it to her mouth for a moment, gathering herself again. "I need you to tell me you’ll bring my baby back. I need you to tell me that it's not gonna be like it was with Lee."

At the mention of his former charge's name, Harry's shoulders tensed. He straightened up and turned back to Michelle, his stride filled with purpose. His demeanour was not longer sharp and angry, although James could tell it was simmering just under the surface. He reached out again and this time took her hands in both of his, “I will bring him home. Alive and well.”

“Promise me.” Her hands gripped his hard, her eyes glassy but focused, “Promise me. Because I won't survive losing him. Not after Lee, not after everythin' that's happened."

Harry looked her square in the eye. “I promise, Michelle. I’ll bring him home.”

She seemed to find what she was looking for in his words, in his eyes, because after a few moments she nodded and let go. 

"James, order a car to take Michelle and Daisy home" 

He nodded, but before he could respond Michelle interjected with a swift, "I'm not going home, not while he's still missing."

"Michelle-" 

"I said no!" 

Taking a measured breath, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and revised his previous order. "Very well. See to it that they are allocated a room at the estate, and that they are comfortable"

"Very good, Sir."

Harry nodded once and stalked towards the stairs. He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, with Michelle staring after him. 

James placed a friendly hand on her arm to draw her attention back to him, “If you’ll come with me, Mrs Unwin, I can get you and your daughter settled into a room."

She collected Daisy from the couch and swung her easily into her arms. The poor child was exhausted and teary again. With a soft sigh, James left Jeremy with clear instructions on what to do while he was gone and lead mother and daughter towards the back of the shop. 

"Are there rooms above the shop or something?" she asked, distracted.

“Or something" He replied dryly, and left it at that. As he lead her towards one of the many secret corridors that connected the shop to the main Estate, he thought that she'd find out soon enough what "or something" actually meant. 

And hoped Eggsy would be well enough when his mother finally got hold of him…


End file.
